All The Nice Girls (& Even Some Who Ain't) Love A Salty Doll

I have had occasion recently, to hike out to the Pavilion at Wayville land, to watch the Adelaide roller derby in action. It was the notion of chicks on rollers indulging in hand-to-hand combat that interested me, being, as I am, a girl of simple tastes.
Though, to be honest, there is not much simple about roller derby. To the virgin spectator, it looks like a mad melee (on wheels), of rough house chicks, going around and around, with absolutely no point to it whatsoever other than voyeurism, which, in fact, is a point, I immediately realize. They draw a fair crowd, an assembly of wayward types: hardcore lesbians, lesbians-in-waiting, boys who like lesbians, and lesbians who like other lesbians, if you get my drift. All-in-all, it is my kind of place. I like the American-esque atmosphere, the razzmatazz, the over-dry hot dogs and the cheap wine in plastic glasses. It is all very trailer park, what with the half-time skateboarding, the hot wheels line-up, getting down and grubby with a fistful of Dolls, Dies, or Roadtrainers in the crap house. Girl sweat is kinda pheromonal.
Obviously, my redhead has to go for a different team, why, I have no idea. She is into the asthetic, the grace, the physicality, and thus, she errs toward Pistola Balboa and those argy-bargy Mile Die girls, whereas I, taking the femme role some divine diety earmarked me for, naturally lean toward the floatilla of sailer girls in cute blue cheerleader skirts with a more graceful style. Of course, as soon as I start to follow a team, they go to pieces. I am yet to see my Dolls win a catfight, despite their most valiant efforts, but, this lady is not for turning. Normally, I miss the first half anyhow, stranded as I am in the food queue, nonetheless, the whole night is definitely one for the girls, and that, in a town woefully short on contact sport spectacles for certain kinds of broads, is the crux of my point. Oh, and by the way, you can arm-wrestle the roller chicks post game, and, mingle with them at the after party, if that is, you don't mind a sideswipe or two trying to get to the bar! As expected, I am still in the bloody hot dog queue - writing this piece!